


Body Swap

by Kotana



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Body Swap, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-03-08 06:14:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3198485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kotana/pseuds/Kotana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal and Will wake up in each other's bodies and attempt to fulfill the roles of each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably going to sound really confusing because I don't know how to write comprehensible body-swaps and I don't have a beta to keep me on track. Oh well, I attempted and hopefully you will enjoy it:)

Hannibal knew that something was wrong the instant he woke up to the unpleasant scent of animals. Without even opening his eyes, he could feel the sheets were rough beneath him as opposed to his usual silk, further supporting his conclusion that he definitely was not in his own house.

Hannibal immediately switched into his fight-or-flight instincts, abruptly sitting up to get a sense of his surroundings. He found that he was in a relatively bare room that was painted a rather unusual shade of blue. He was brought some comfort when he recognized Will Graham’s bedroom. Sure, he was never officially invited into this area of the house; however, when asked to feed the man’s dogs as a favor, he couldn’t help but snoop around a little.

Yet, despite the dogs that wandered around outside the bedroom, the house was relatively calm. In fact, Hannibal couldn’t distinguish any other sounds that didn’t come from an animal. Where was Will? Hannibal couldn’t seem to even remember how he got here in the first place.

Hannibal decided to search for his patient, so he turned to get out of the bed. He narrowed his eyes when he discovered that he was wearing someone else’s clothes. Presumably Will’s, Hannibal further wondered what happened last night. His curiosity turned into vague fear as Hannibal hoped he hadn’t scared the younger man away.

The thin t-shirt was uncomfortable against his skin, yet somehow, despite the younger man being quite a bit thinner than he, the clothes fit. Hannibal pushed himself off of the bed, determined to find Will and inquire about why he couldn’t remember anything.

Suddenly, when he tried to stand, he collided gracelessly with the hard ground. His lip curled in disgust when he fell onto the filthy floor that countless dogs had treaded on. He pushed himself back up with a low grunt, finding that he was significantly weaker than usual. Not frail by any means, just less strong by comparison.

Briefly Hannibal wondered if he had been drugged. It would explain the memory loss as well as the weariness. But he couldn’t find a reason as to why Will would do this to him. The man was interestingly unpredictable, yet Hannibal never found him to act irrationally in most situations.

He stood up shakily, deciding he should check for any other physical injuries or symptoms that may have occurred. He made his way out of the bedroom to find the bathroom, only to come in contact with all the dogs. They immediately gathered around his legs, looking up at him expectantly. Hannibal paused, curious as to why they weren’t barking. They always barked at him whenever he came to Will’s house. He brushed it off and continued down the hall towards the restroom, leaning on the wall to keep his balance.

When he finally made it into the bathroom, he looked into the mirror in search of any physical side effects that he could be showing. He froze in shock, which was an unusual feeling for someone who was almost always in control. All his years of medical and psychological training could never explain what he saw in the mirror.

oOo

Will woke up surprisingly happy. For the first time in a long time, he had slept without any sweat or nightmares. He sighed in content, not wanting to open his eyes and face the rest of the day yet. Even the bed beneath him felt comfier than normal.

Will became worried after a few minutes when he found that he didn’t hear the usual whines from his dogs begging to go outside. His eyes shot open and he sat up, seeing that he didn’t recognize his surroundings at all. He felt his heartrate speed up, desperately trying to figure out where he was. The walls were royal blue, as was the bed. There were strange artifacts all around the room, and there was a fireplace right across from the bed. The bedroom itself was probably bigger and more expensive than Will’s entire house.

He jumped out of bed to look closer, feeling disoriented. In fact, his entire body felt off. He felt higher up from the ground, yet sturdier on his feet. Even his tongue sat weirdly in his mouth, and his teeth felt jagged and strange. He wasn’t wearing his own clothes anymore, instead he wore silk pajamas.

Will felt like he was going insane. He couldn’t remember anything from the night before, and now he was completely lost in a strange and potentially unsafe place. He considered the possibility that he had sleep-walked into a stranger’s house, but why hadn’t the stranger woken him up or at least taken him to the police? If Will had learned anything in his time being a criminal profiler for the FBI, it was that the world was full of dangerous creeps. Sure, this person could be completely normal, however Will wasn’t an optimist.

He decided his best bet would be to simply get out. Avoid all confrontation with whoever owned this house and just leave. Will hurried across the room to find an exit, stumbling awkwardly. He paused instantly when he passed by the mirror above the fireplace. He stared back at the reflection, wondering if he was hallucinating again. The image moved when Will did, but the recognizable features were definitely not his own. Yet, he didn’t feel the usual fever that almost always accompanied his visions.

He was startled out of his trance when he heard the phone ring. He froze, waiting. He let it sound out a couple times, making sure that there was no one else in the house. When nobody answered, he decided it was safe. He picked up the phone and held it warily against his ear. He didn’t speak, waiting for the person on the other end of the line to talk first.

Through the phone, he heard his own voice speaking to him. “Will? Is that you? I believe we have a problem.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Excuse me?” Hannibal asked when he only heard a garbled mess on the other end of the phone line. 

Again, he heard a response that barely even sounded like English. “Will, you must enunciate,” Hannibal reminded. “I cannot understand what you’re saying.”

He heard Will take a deep breath. “Why… does… your… tongue… move… so… much?” Will asked slowly, careful to pronounce each word clearly. 

If Hannibal were not so confused about their current predicament, he might have laughed. “It is simply muscle memory. You will have to get used to the accent. If it’s any consolation, I am not comfortable with your mouth either,” he explained, rubbing at the stubble on his face. 

“So, what do we do?” Will asked, still speaking cautiously. 

“I’m not sure,” Hannibal responded. “However, I will drive over there as soon as I can. We may talk then.”

“Okay, hurry,” Will mumbled before hanging up. 

Hannibal turned off the phone and sighed. He had absolutely no idea how he was supposed to fix this, whatever ‘this’ was. He didn’t even know how it could possibly happen. All he knew was that now his consciousness was stuck in his patient’s body. 

Hannibal went over to Will’s closet, slowly learning how to walk on Will’s skinny legs. He rummaged through the clothes, glaring at each outfit in distaste. Finally, shoved into the back corner, he found a new black suit that looked like it had never been worn before. The price tags he saw that were still attached when he pulled it out of the closet proved his theory. Seeing nothing more worthwhile, Hannibal settled on it and tried it on.

It was slightly long in the arms, but the suit fit in all other areas. Besides, it was better than anything else that Will owned. Hannibal proceeded to put on a blue tie, and then walked into the bathroom to deal with the messy hair. 

Staring back at blue eyes in the mirror startled Hannibal, but he decided to do his best under the current circumstances. He found hair gel that Will probably never used in his entire lifetime and began to tame the brown curls. Once he had obtained a relatively classy hairstyle, he gave one last look in the mirror before walking out. 

Hannibal had seriously considered shaving. The stubble was uncomfortable, and Will had such an attractive face hidden beneath it. However, he figured that the man would not appreciate him vandalizing a body that was not his own, so he let it stay. 

He let the dogs outside for a few minutes and filled up their food bowls, knowing Will would likely ask about them. Finally, once everything was done, Hannibal left for Baltimore. 

oOo

Will eagerly opened the front door, coming face to face with himself. He was taken aback for a brief moment, before stepping aside and letting the man in the house. 

“What are you wearing?” Will asked, narrowing his eyes. The words came out slightly garbled, but he figured that Dr. Lecter got the point. 

The man narrowed his eyes. “I could ask the same about you.”

Will looked down at himself and shrugged. He thought jeans and an old t-shirt were perfectly acceptable. “I didn’t feel like putting on a three-piece suit when I just found out an hour ago that I’m in my psychiatrist’s body.”

Dr. Lecter curled his lip. “Where did you even find that atrocity?” 

“I don’t know, it was in the back of one of your drawers. You didn’t even bother to hang it up,” Will explained. 

“With good reason,” Dr. Lecter murmured. “Anyway, on to more important matters. Do you have any recollection of the previous night?”

Will rolled his eyes, amazed at how strange it sounded for his own voice to be talking with such an unusual vocabulary. “Uh, no. Do you?”

Dr. Lecter shook his head. “No. What do you propose we do?”

Will sighed, running a hand through his new silky hair. “We could tell Jack, or Alana or someone,” he suggested. 

“And what would that accomplish?” Dr. Lecter replied. “Have everyone view us as insane?”

Will furrowed his brow. “What do you mean? They have to believe us. If not me, they should believe you since you’re a pretty popular psychiatrist. Well, at least you were. I guess I am now.”

Dr. Lecter frowned, unamused. “Now Will, in case you haven’t noticed by now, Jack already views you as unstable, and I believe Alana told you personally. I, myself, have also been accused of being impressionable.”

Will scoffed. “Who would say that about you, and why?”

Dr. Lecter averted his gaze briefly. “No one who matters anymore. Now, we need a better plan. I suggest that we find out what happened last night. Perhaps that will tell us how we switched and how we can go about changing ourselves back.”

“But we can’t,” Will argued. “Neither of us remembers and there was no one else there. Plus, both of us have to go to work in a couple hours, so we better be ourselves by then. Jack would have the resources to help us.” 

“Then you may talk to Jack,” Dr. Lecter complied. “I, however, will be finding an alternate solution.”

“He’s not gonna listen to me, though,” Will complained. The only things that Jack ever trusted him with were crime investigations, and even then the man was skeptical. 

Dr. Lecter raised an eyebrow. “Why not? You’re me, after all. Especially if you arrive dressed like that, you can be assured that he’ll know it’s not me.”

“Fine,” Will replied defiantly. Honestly, he had no clue what to tell Jack without sounding insane. Yet he knew that he was getting irritated by the psychiatrist’s refusal to even try. Will turned around and began to make his way towards the door until he felt a hand grab onto his wrist. 

“Will, wait,” Dr. Lecter stated, turning Will around to face him. Will looked quickly back at his own eyes before looking away. 

“Why?” Will stated, weakly tugging his arm away. 

“I am asking you not to go,” Dr. Lecter explained. “For a couple reasons. One, as you know, I have built myself an esteemed reputation, and I would not like to have it questioned. And two, as a psychiatrist and having gone through medical school, I can guarantee you that there is nothing that can help us.”

Will sighed, knowing that Dr. Lecter was probably right. “Well I don’t know what to do, then.”

Dr. Lecter frowned. “We do not have time to think about this right now. My first patient will be at my office in two hours, and I believe your first class at the academy is in four, including the hour and a half’s drive to Virginia.”

Will narrowed his eyes. “How do you expect us to work? We can’t show up looking like each other. Can’t you cancel?”

“That would be extremely rude to cancel my appointments on such short notice. You do not have to have class today, though,” Dr. Lecter explained. 

Will huffed. “Alana has already covered more of my classes than I can count since Jack always needed me. But whether or not we can cancel is a pointless discussion since again, we can’t go about our business as usual when we look like each other.”

Dr. Lecter was quiet for a moment in contemplation. “Then we will work each other’s jobs. I will be you for a day, and you will do the same.”


	3. Chapter 3

“This is never gonna work.”

“Keep an open mind, Will,” Hannibal replied. “Besides, what other option do we have?”

Will just grumbled in response, so Hannibal continued. “Now, we have about two hours. First, I must get you dressed for my job. There is no way you can show up wearing that.” Hannibal beckoned for the man to follow him, and led him upstairs to the master bedroom. He opened the closet, pulling out a plaid blue suit along with its corresponding undershirt and vest. 

“I’m supposed to wear all of that?” Will asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Hannibal replied simply. “Now hurry and put it on, we don’t have much time and I still need to fix your hair. Not to mention, we still must brief each other on what exactly we’re supposed to say once at work.” He stood in the doorway, staring at Will and waiting for him to begin. 

The man didn’t move. “Like, right here? Not one for modesty, I see…” Will muttered. 

Hannibal locked his gaze with Will’s, staring back at the eyes he knew so well to be his own. “After all, it is my body, is it not? It’s nothing that I don’t see on a daily basis. If anything, it will be you who is intruding upon me.”

Will averted his gaze. “Yeah well that just makes it weirder,” he argued. “But fine.” Reluctantly, the man began to change his clothes. 

Hannibal watched his expression closely, curious as to what was going through Will’s mind. Hannibal’s own tanned skin made is more difficult to notice the distinct pink color in his cheeks, but Hannibal could tell that Will was flustered to say the least. 

Will finally got all of the components of the suit on and turned back to face Hannibal. He stood in a posture that coordinated with Will’s own body: slumped shoulders, head down, avoiding eye contact, and altogether seeming small and intimidated. 

Hannibal shook his head, grabbing onto Will’s wrist and pulling him into the bathroom. He turned the man towards himself and began running his fingers through familiar hair. He hated how he found himself having to stand up on his toes due to the fact that he was now the shorter of the two.

“Now Will, I’m going to need you to be extremely confident today,” Hannibal stated, putting hair gel into his hand and mixing it into the hair, careful to style it exactly how he does it on a usual day. 

“How do you expect me to do that?” Will countered. 

Hannibal sighed. “I’m not sure, but it is quite important for this occupation. Eye contact is possibly the most vital of all actions when in conversation with a patient.”

Will was quiet a moment. “I don’t think I can do that.”

Hannibal finished fixing Will’s hair and stepped back. “You need to try. We need to give the impression that we are each other. That means you must hold yourself as I usually do.” Hannibal squirted shaving cream in one hand and smeared it across the other man’s face. 

“What are you doing?” Will asked, using the back of his hand to wipe the cream off his mouth. 

“What does it look like?” Hannibal refuted. “I would never go out without shaving.”

“You don’t need to today, there’s barely a shadow of stubble,” Will argued. 

Hannibal just took his razor and easily dragged it across the jawline he was so familiar with. It was strange, staring at his own face for so long. Nevertheless, he knew he had to adapt to the current situation and carry on as usual. 

“There,” He said once he’d finished. He used a towel to wipe off any excess shaving cream and took one last look at the other man. He felt as if he were staring at his own reflection, minus the mirror. “Now, make sure to maintain a straight posture. I have a notebook in my office of the basic diagnoses of my patients for today, and since you are technically me, you may read it without violating therapist-patient confidentiality. Again, make eye contact. Don’t ask specific questions; make every comment vague enough to be interpreted in many ways. Talk with authority, and speak with my accent without brutally distorting it like you have been doing all morning. Hopefully you’ve picked up on enough of my vocabulary to sound like me.”

Will just stared back at him with wide eyes. “Okay, uh, yeah alright.”

Hannibal smiled reassuringly. “As I’ve told you before, our sessions have been merely conversations. All you have to do is have conversations with my patients. You will be fine.”

Will took a deep breath. “Alright, I can attempt that. What about you? Can you be me?”

Hannibal tilted his head to one side. “I believe I can. What do I have to teach today?”

Will gave a quick laugh. “Well teaching is the least of your problems. If we weren’t an hour and a half away from Wolf Trap, I’d make you change clothes too. And here,”

Will stepped forward and used one hand to mess up Hannibal’s hair. “I never style my hair like that.”

Hannibal frowned, but agreed nonetheless to comply with Will. “Fine. Now what am I supposed to tell your class?”

Will shrugged. “I have a slideshow set up with a couple crime scenes. I guess just analyze them and hope for the best. Talk at them, not to them.”

Hannibal raised an eyebrow. “That’s all the instruction I get? 'Hope for the best'?”

“Yeah,” Will stated. “That’s really all I can tell you. Now do you know how to act like me?”

“I assume so,” Hannibal clarified. “I have observed certain aspects of your behavior and I should be able to replicate them.”

Will narrowed his eyes. “You know you can’t talk like that at work, right? I don’t have your John Hopkins degree or anything, so use more common words.”

Hannibal smiled. “I will be fine. I’ve seen your obvious eye contact avoidance, I’ve noticed your tendency to space out at times, how you act as if you’re constantly questioning reality, how you smile whenever you avert your gaze from Alana but maintain a frown with Jack, how you often contain sarcasm in your tone, and even the insignificant drumming of your fingers along the edge of the table. As you had called me out on at our first meeting, I seem to have psychoanalyzed more than you thought.”

Will stared back in shock. “Some of that seems less of a professional diagnosis and more of an obsession with me.”

Hannibal ignored the accusation with a small smile. “I consider it more of a personal interest than an obsession. Now, we should leave for work soon; I am never late so you cannot be either."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh. I forgot I'd started writing this story.

Hannibal stepped into the classroom, observing how many of the students were already in their seats talking quietly. They fell into a hush as Hannibal walked up to the front and turned to look back at them.

Hannibal picked up a projector remote from the desk and clicked on the machine. Instantly, a crime scene photo was cast up onto the wall above him. He narrowed his eyes at the image, then recognized the case. He remembered Will talking to him about this particular murderer at one of their sessions. This shouldn’t be too difficult.

“This killer had unconscious impulses to achieve positions of power, along with a narrow minded obsession with himself,” Hannibal announced, beginning the lecture.

Somehow, an hour and a half managed to pass by. A total of eight different crime scenes graced the wall behind him, the last of which being an older case. Hannibal smiled up at the screen, recognizing his own work. The photo took away from some of the beauty of it, but he didn't mind. The display was beautiful nonetheless.

“And this is one of many creations of the Chesapeake Ripper,” he declared. “This murderer views his kills as nothing more than pigs. They are likely rude, or behave in a way that this man finds displeasing.” Hannibal paused, unsure of what to reveal. His decision was made for him when the dismissal bell rang and the students began to file out.

Hannibal sighed with a small smile, proud of himself for making it through the lecture.

“That’s an interesting hypothesis for The Ripper.”

Hannibal turned around, coming face to face with Alana. “Hello Dr. Bloom,” he greeted with a smile, making sure to let his gaze linger slightly longer than normal just as Will would.

“’ _Dr. Bloom_ ’? I didn’t realize we were using such formalities, _Mr. Graham_ ,” she teased.

Hannibal bit his tongue at his mistake. “Sorry Alana,” he apologized. “It’s been a long day.”

Alana tilted her head in sympathetic curiosity. “Will, it’s only 2:00.”

Hannibal gave a weak smile. “You have no idea.”

She stepped closer, closing much of the space between them. Hannibal, assuming how Will might have reacted, turned his head away meekly.

“You know, if you ever need to talk, I’m here. I’d hate for the pressure Jack puts on you to break you,” she offered.

Hannibal caught her gaze for a brief moment before forcing himself to look away. He hated being so rude and not maintaining eye contact, but he had to present himself as Will would. “Isn’t that what Dr. Lecter is for?”

Alana smiled in return. “Well if you need a fresh view, I’ll be here.”

Hannibal nodded in appreciation, but didn’t say another word as she turned and walked out of the room.

He looked at Will’s schedule on his desk, seeing that there was only one class left for the day. Checking the time, he saw that Will would be seeing two more patients before his workday was over. He was about to call Will, knowing he was between patients at the moment, when all of the sudden he saw a dark figure pass through the corner of his eye.

He turned his head, but saw nothing. Then a rather painful headache began to set in. Another shadow darted across his vision, and he felt his temperature rising. Then Hannibal blacked out.

oOo

Will was shaking by the time he arrived at Dr. Lecter’s office. His tie felt too tight and if the psychiatrist’s body had the same sweat glands as his own did, he would probably be sweating through his suit by now. He had practiced enunciating all throughout the car ride but even now he wasn’t positive if he had the accent under control.

He went to the desk in Dr. Lecter’s office and took the journal from the top drawer as he was told. He looked at the first appointment of the day, someone named Franklyn Froideveaux. He checked the patient code under that name, leading him to another notebook specifically for that man. He quickly flipped through the pages, basically just finding that the man was neurotic.

On the hour exactly, Will went to the waiting room door and opened it with a cheap smile on his face. The man on the other side, Franklyn, lit up when he saw Will.

“Hello, Franklyn” Will greeted. “Please, come in.”

The larger man grinned and stepped inside, brushing against Will as he passed.

Will almost sat down in the wrong chair. He was so used to being the patient in this scenario, sitting on the opposite side felt strange.

“So I’ve discovered that not only are we both cheese folk, we’re also herb and spice fans,” Franklyn began, plopping down in the opposite chair.

Will resisted the urge to flip through his notes. Cheese? Dr. Lecter didn’t say anything about cheese. “Are we?” He asked vaguely.

 

“Indeed,” Franklyn assured. “I saw you shopping over in the imported market area for herbs and other stuff, I don’t know if you saw me or not.”

“It seems we have some common interests,” Will commented, unsure of how to handle this situation. He was told to empathize and have simple conversations based on the mental diagnosis written in Dr. Lecter’s notes. He had no clue how to make small talk about herbs and cheese.

“Right?” The man exclaimed with a smile. “That’s what I’ve been saying. I think we could make good friends. I hate having to pay to see you.”

Will fought off all his nervous habits, instead casually looking through the journal. There, in near perfect cursive, was written _‘Overly personal, neurotic tendencies seem to lead to paranoia of loneliness. Desire for friendship in all those with relatively intimate knowledge of him. Avoid personal topics. Remind him of the lion in the room.’_

Will took a breath, trying to regain his composure. “Have you sensed the possibility of a threat recently? I would like to address any possible improvements.”

And then Franklyn began to sob. Will repressed a sigh, knowing this was going to be a long day.


	5. Chapter 5

Will led the final patient of the day to the door, barely having enough energy to give one last smile. “See you next week,” he stated weakly, giving the patient just enough time to say goodbye before slamming the door shut.

Will sighed, running a hand through his slicked back hair and loosening the tie around his neck. He couldn’t believe that Dr. Lecter did this every single day. He wondered if he sounded as crazy as the rest of the man’s patients did.

Will brushed the thought away with a frown, instead choosing to explore the large office. He walked around to a desk over at the side of the room. He sifted through the papers, finding immaculate drawings and sketches. He looked down at a near perfect picture of Johns Hopkins University. He gently dragged his finger across the surface in awe before realizing his mistake. A single smudge in the graphite trailed down the paper. _Oops_.

Will grimaced and quickly shoved the drawing underneath the others and walked away. He walked by an old harpsichord, and he tapped his fingers along the keys as he passed. He brushed his hand against the cases of books as he wandered the perimeter of the room, stopping at the shelves filled with patient journals.

He scanned the spines of the books and took out the one for ‘Will Graham’. He raised an eyebrow, knowing he shouldn’t snoop but being far too curious not to.

It was surprisingly less professional than Will would have expected. While the other patients’ journals were organized to perfection, Will’s seemed almost casual. A few notes were made about empathy and some symptoms he’d been feeling, and there were quite a few recordings of when he’d talk about the Chesapeake Ripper.

Will shrugged to himself. He couldn’t blame the man, after all, Will talked about that murderer a lot. It’s probably normal to take that many notes on it.

What Will didn’t expect were the sketches. Every few pages there would be a small drawing of Will, each detail perfectly accurate. Will noticed none of the other journals had pictures, and he stifled a smile.

Will turned the next page and was met with a strangely familiar picture. A clock, to be exact. He remembered drawing one for the psychiatrist, but he definitely didn’t draw it like that. The clock he drew was normal, however the one on this page was all lopsided and mixed up. Yet, the numbers were in his handwriting.

Will furrowed his eyebrows, staring at the image for a few more moments before sighing and returning the journal to the book case. He could always ask Dr. Lecter later about where the clock came from.

Speaking of which, Will glanced at his watch, noticing the time. Dr. Lecter would be done at the academy by now. Will pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number, but after many rings, it went to voicemail. Will shrugged, assuming the man was already back at the house. He walked out of the office and left to meet the psychiatrist at his home.

It was in the car when Will realized that for some reason he couldn’t identify, he felt… _good_. He was inexplicably content, compared to his usual headaches, fevers, and shivers. Though he was worried about being stuck in his psychiatrist’s body, he wasn’t nearly as shaken up as he usually is on a daily basis. He smiled to himself, briefly wondering how Dr. Lecter was doing.

oOo

Hannibal woke up abruptly, finding himself in the dark. He squinted, his eyes slowing adjusting. He had a pounding headache, and he felt his shirt clinging to his back with sweat. He ran a hand down the scruff along his jaw and looked around, confused.  
The moon above him provided a small amount of light, barely illuminating the pavement. Hannibal recognized it as the parking lot to the academy that Will taught at. There were no cars there except for Will’s, which he’d driven here this morning.

Hannibal took his cell phone from his coat pocket. He had eight voicemails, all from Will. It was 11:00 at night; Hannibal was supposed to be home by five. He narrowed his eyes, desperately trying to recall anything that had happened in the past hours. Nothing came to mind.

He sighed and clicked the first voicemail, immediately greeted by his own voice.

_“Dr. Lecter? I’m back at your house, where are you? We need to figure out what happened. You better not be causing trouble in my body.”_

Hannibal frowned and tapped on the next message, the time stamp showing an hour later.

_“Hello? Dr. Lecter, answer your phone. Are you okay? You were supposed to be home a long time ago. Did something happen? Pick up!”_

Hannibal found a sliver of amusement in Will’s worrisome tone, but it was lost as he continued through the voicemails.

_“Hannibal Lecter, answer me! Where the hell are you? It’s late, wherever you are you need to come home. Should I call the police or something? I’m not the most well-liked person, I’m sure there are twenty different killers coming after me for solving their cases. Did someone kidnap you or… worse? Please call me back, Dr. Lecter.”_

_“So I called the police. They said they can’t report you as missing until twenty four hours. So, of course, I called Jack. He told me that ‘Will isn’t the most sociable person, he’s probably ignoring you on purpose. Did you psychoanalyze him again?’ Is that really how Jack talks about me? Whatever, just please, come home. Please don’t be dead.”_

Hannibal glared in discontent at the phone. He couldn’t possibly come up with a good enough excuse for his disappearance, after all he couldn’t even remember himself where he was.

He sighed and got into his car, starting up the engine. It was a long drive back to Baltimore; perhaps he could manifest a good reason in that time before he would have to confront Will. With his pulse pounding in his ears and a fevered sweat running down his back, Hannibal drove home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what I'm doing.


End file.
